To Stay The Same
by Grey Like Stormy Skies
Summary: It was her sixteenth birthday, and everything was different. Charlie was on a mission for the Order, and Bill was still settling into his new flat with Fleur. Percy was still estranged, and Ron, Ron was godknowswhere, doing godknowswhat.[Ginny oneshot]


_**To Stay The Same**_

Her birthday this year was different than anything it had ever been before, and it wasn't just because it was her sixteenth. In fact, she hated that it was her sixteenth, and wished it could have been any other; if it was her twelfth or thirteenth she would have been undeniably too young, and if it was her seventeenth or eighteenth they wouldn't have any control over her at all. But it was her sixteenth, and she was stuck in that horrible place where you are the only one who has realized you've grown up.

In past years, her birthday meant that Bill and Charlie would come home from Egypt and Romania for the day, bringing her presents and sweets. Percy would lay off his nagging, and Fred and George would go an entire twenty-four hours without playing jokes on her. Her Mum would spend all day baking a beautiful cake and setting the picnic table for a perfect birthday dinner, and her Dad would always leave work just a little bit earlier. He'd pick her up and swing her around, and she'd giggle like she was the luckiest girl in the world.

Ron, though, Ron was always her favorite part—he'd stay with her, all day, putting aside their petty differences that would spark rows the next day. He wouldn't stay in his room all day waiting for a letter from Harry or Hermione, and he wouldn't go up the hill with their brothers to play Quidditch without inviting her along. They would fade back to the days when all other siblings were at school or work, and it was just the two of them, best friends.

But this was her sixteenth birthday, and that meant that everything was different. Charlie was away on some mission for the Order, and Bill was still getting comfortable in his new flat with Fleur. Percy was estranged from the family, and she almost wished he was nagging her, if it meant he was still here. And Ron, Ron was god-knows-where, doing god-knows-what.

She woke up early that morning, still unnerved by the unnatural quietness of the house—she swore she'd never get used to being the only kid left at home. She lay in her bed for a moment, without moving, and stared out the window she had looked through so many times before. Two years ago, the bed had been moved so that it was positioned perfectly—now, she could lie in bed and see the small gold angel that lay atop the church steeple in the village below them.

Her mind was still blurry, as she looked out that little window, her gaze fixed on the small angel. She'd always fancied it her Guardian Angel, no matter how foolish and childish it seemed. Every night on her birthday, she'd stare out at it and make a wish—the wish for blowing out candles on a cake was only practice to her. A ghost of a smile crossed her face as she remembered the wish from last year.

"I wish, more than anything, that Harry Potter would fall in love with me, and that Percy would come home. I know that's two wishes, but I couldn't chose between the two."

She sighed, before sitting up and stretching her arms up and leaning her head back. She'd have to get up eventually, for it would just be foolish to sleep away her birthday, even it was her sixteenth. As she stood up her left ankle cracked just as it did every morning, and she was reminded that no matter how different some things were now, others would always stay the same.

She walked down the stairs quietly, gathering all of her hair into a messy ponytail and securing it with the black hair tie that was always around her right wrist. As she neared the kitchen she could smell bacon and sausage, and smiled in spite of herself.

"Hello dear, I've made some toast and kippers, there's eggs in the fry pan too—have you heard from Ron? Mmm, no, I thought not," her mother said, bustling around the kitchen and trying to do twelve things at once; she didn't look up once.

"I haven't a clue what Fred and George are doing these days, I've got to pay them a visit soon; oh, and your father had to leave early for the office—you know how things are these days—but he wanted me to say hello to you from him, and that he'll try to make it back before you're asleep tonight. I've got to head over to Grimmauld Place, but I wanted to make you breakfast and be here when you woke up, and oh, Ginny—happy birthday," Molly said, finally taking a breath and looking up at her daughter. "You're so grown up now."

"Not nearly enough," she grumbled, staring down at the faded green polish on her toenails.

"Now, Ginny," her mum started, but she just held up a hand and smiled painfully.

"No, Mum, I was only being dramatic. I'm fine, you can get going. Say hello to Lupin and Tonks for me."

"Well, alright, if you're sure…" Molly said, placing the platter of kippers on the table and picking up her wand. "I'll try to be home for dinner—don't get yourself into any trouble, you hear?"

"Yes, Mum," she said, dutifully hugging her mother goodbye. "See you tonight."

And with a pop with her mother was gone, and she found herself alone in the kitchen. She stared at the large pile of breakfast foods in front of her for a moment, before sighing and turning on her heel. She walked back upstairs, feeling fully entitled to a long shower.

Once she was showered and dressed she went back downstairs, running an old brush through her red locks. She sat down on the worn sofa, looking at the scratch marks covering the coffee table.

"And what'll you do with your birthday, hmm?" she asked herself quietly, and almost fell off the sofa in surprise when she heard a reply.

"Well I'd hope you're going to be social, and not hide away in this house all day."

She turned so fast she felt a crick in her neck, but as she massaged it with her right hand a smile broke out across her entire face at the sight of the two boys in front of her.

"You came home!" she cried out, throwing down her hairbrush and hugging the twins. "I didn't think you would."

"What?!" Fred said, scandalized.

"Did you think we would _forget_?" George asked, his eyes wide. She crossed her arms in front of her, leaning all her weight on her left foot.

"Last year you didn't remember till you accidentally set Mum's cake batter on fire."

"Damn, thought you'd forgotten that," Fred muttered, before grinning at her again. "Happy Birthday Bean!"

"We know you're still upset," George started, not giving her a chance to respond, "what with the whole Ron-Hermione-Harry-going-off-on-an-adventure-and-not-letting-you-come-along and all—"

"—But you've got to remember, it's just because they want to protect you," Fred continued.

"I don't need to be protected," she grumbled, and both boys raised their eyebrows. "Oh, would you two give it a _rest_, I was eleven bloody years old then! I've grown up!"

"Course you have," Fred said, patting her head and looking very patronizing. "Anyway, we've got to get back to the store, Bean, just wanted to let you know we remembered!"

"Thanks," she said, hugging both brothers goodbye and feeling foolish for believing they would stay the whole day.

And soon enough she found herself alone again, alone again on her sixteenth birthday. Refusing to wallow in self-pity, she went out into the garden she'd started the day Ron had left—it was coming along beautifully, and she couldn't've been prouder of it.

Throughout the day she received many owls from many friends, each wishing her a Happy Birthday and some bringing her small presents. She received many owls from many friends, but nothing from the three people she wanted to hear from most.

Her mother came home at eight o'clock that night, a brown box in her arms. "Hello dear, how was your day? I've just picked up this cake from a bakery in Grimmauld Square, I'm afraid I won't have time to bake one from scratch now—I figured you won't mind, as it's just you and I for dinner tonight—have you heard from Ron? Mmm, no, I thought not," her Mum seemed to be living in fast motion these days, never taking the time to look at the person she was speaking to—it wasn't her fault, the world was becoming an unbearable place to live in at a normal speed—but maybe if she had looked up, she would have seen the heartbreak in her daughter's eyes.

"Thanks, Mum," she said. "I'll just run upstairs and put on something nice for dinner, I'll be back down soon."

"Mmm, lovely," her mother said, already preoccupied with pots and pans.

She left her mother in the kitchen, and slowly walked up the carpeted steps. She had gotten the sudden urge to dress up like she had in previous years, for previous birthdays—to wear a pretty dress with a delicate bow in her hair, with her best gold earrings and heirloom locket.

When she came back downstairs, her mother was placing dishes and silverware around the kitchen table.

"Er, Mum?" she started, almost unsure of herself. "Could we maybe eat outside? I know it's only the two of and it'd be more work, but I was just thinking it'd be nice to—"

"Pretend it was like old times?" her mother finished quietly, looking up and down at her daughter, taking note of the care the sixteen-year-old had put into her appearance. "I think that would be perfect."

And so mother and daughter had a dinner for two under the stars, with the same red-checkered tablecloth as always, and arguably the same amount of food as there had been every year previous. And with the small gold angel barely visible above the treetops, she was smiling, because some things would always stay the same.

As her mother brought the dishes inside, a snowy-white owl swooped down and landed on the table in front of her. Hardly daring to breathe, she watched as the owl dropped a letter from its talons, stole a bit of the roast, and took off once again.

'_Miss Ginerva Weasley'_ the envelope said, and she felt something explode inside her. She tore the envelope open, and a thin bit of parchment fell into her lap. She scanned the letter quickly, hardly believing it was real—ever since the three seventeen-year-olds had gone away two weeks ago not one word had been heard from them. She smiled as she read the cheery birthday wishes, but she could have sworn her heart stopped completely when she read the last line.

And don't you think for one moment I won't come back for you the moment this is all over; if you'll have me, that is. Love, Harry

She walked inside and up the stairs in a daze, barely remembering to thank her mother for the dinner and say goodnight. She went straight into her room, and pulled on her pajamas while still clutching that letter in her right hand.

She climbed into her bed, and pulled the covers up to her neck. She looked out the window, and locked her gaze on the small angel that was glowing in the light of the streetlamps.

"I wish this all will be over soon," she whispered, her eyes not leaving the golden angel.

It was her sixteenth birthday, and it was unlike any other birthday she'd had before. But as she closed her eyes, her Guardian Angel swimming before her eyelids, she was comforted by the knowledge that some things would_ always_ stay the same.

* * *

A/N: Much longer than I had anticipated, oh well.

Seeing as you've taken the time to read this, I hope you'll take another moment to leave me a review and let me know your thoughts—I write these for you, I'd love to know what you think of them. Thanks!


End file.
